


(the unorthodox) tales of having a redheaded roommate.

by aemme



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AkuRoku - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Drinking, Humor, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-06 19:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aemme/pseuds/aemme
Summary: Get a roommate, his parents said. It'll be cost-efficient, they said.Maybe even a chance to make a friend, Sora said.Roxas notes as he shakes the hand of one tall, obnoxious redhead named Axel, that his family seemed to forego the fine print.A collection of snapshots detailing (the unorthodox) tales of having a redheaded roommate.





	1. the fifty shades of grey thing.

**Author's Note:**

> This little series is going to be an opportunity for me to get used to writing again. I'm super stale, I haven't written fan-fiction in... years, but recently I've been motivated to give it a try again and see how I like it. 
> 
> The chapters will be short and sweet, much like this one. They're more an opportunity for me to practice things like dialogue, imagery and language. Not to mention these two are near and dear to my heart, so - I hope you enjoy.

            “We could do the _Fifty Shades of Grey_ thing.”

             Axel does this a lot. Has a conversation in his head and segues it to a verbal setting except Roxas has missed all the context. This is a prime example. Axel struts his way into their shared living room and sits himself down on the floor in front of the coffee table. Roxas is _trying_ to relax, submerse himself in the new _God of War_ but the red tufts of Axel’s hair cut sharply across the television. Roxas is tempted to shoo him away, but damn it, this segue is too odd to pass up. The game is put on pause and he drags his gaze down to Axel.

            “What?”

            “The _Fifty Shades of Grey_ thing.”

            “This is where you go into more detail,” Roxas prompts flatly. “Are you trying to ask me to engage in BDSM with you?”

            “Well, first, don’t _ever_ use the phrase ‘engage in BDSM’ ever again. What are you, my dad?”

             Roxas runs a hand through his hair and slumps back against the couch. “Fine. How about this? _What are you talking about_?”

            “A contract!” Axel reveals, hands outstretched as if it should have been _obvious_ that’s what he’s talking about.

            “What?”

            “You’ve been doing nothing but nagging me about how I live. _Axel, that’s recyclable_ ,” the redhead mocks, putting on a high, breathy voice and hey, Roxas doesn’t sound like that. “ _Axel, stop leaving the balcony door open. Axel, wear more clothes_.”

            “I don’t sound like that!” Roxas protests.

            “ _Axel, there’s a stick up my ass and I can’t get it out._ Oh, really? Roxas, my darling roommate, how can I help? _You can’t. I like it up there_.”

            “You’re a fucking jerk.”

            “No, _you’re_ high-maintenance and I’m _trying_ to do something about it.” Axel stands up and wanders into his bedroom, leaving Roxas to grumpily stew on the couch. He didn’t think he was going to be subject to character assassination today, but well, here he is.

             Axel returns with a permanent marker and a couple sheets of printer paper, slapping them down onto the coffee table. “So, let’s make a contract. You write your wants and needs and I’ll write mine and we’ll come to an agreement.”

            “What if I don’t want to?” Yes, Roxas is being petulant. Yes, it’s probably because a primary flaw of his character is being dredged to the surface by a guy he doesn’t even _like._ C’est la vie.

            “Then you can kiss half your rent good-bye,” Axel almost says it solemnly, like he _enjoys_ living in their apartment. Roxas sputters. He can’t even imagine what other... _colorful_ people are sifting through Craigslist ads looking for a roommate if Axel managed to look as conservative as he did online. One look at the redhead had Roxas considering otherwise, and _living with him_ is a beast all its own. Roxas wouldn’t be surprised if his next roommate is a serial killer.

            Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Roxas lingers on the paper and marker.

           “So I either do the _Fifty Shades of Grey_ thing or you’re moving out?” He asks, tone wrung dry with disbelief.

 

\---

           

            “I think it’s a great idea,” Sora yips on the other end of their Face-Time call. Roxas nearly implodes.

            “No! You’re supposed to say ‘be your own person, Roxas, don’t fall for this crap’ or – something like that. Not side with him!”

            “Why?” Sora is shoving fistfuls of microwave popcorn into his mouth as he wanders around his own apartment and Roxas wonders if Sora and Axel are the actual siblings with the way they inhale food. “He sounds like he’s just trying to compromise with you so you don’t, like, kill each other.”

            Roxas shifts his focus to his bedroom, listening to the muted thrum of rock music coming from the other side of the wall, Axel singing along to some song Roxas doesn’t know. Sora crunches on his popcorn and sees Roxas’ thin resolve beginning to slip.

            “It’d be pretty rude not to at least give it a shot,” Sora points out. Roxas sighs, again. He’s been doing a lot of sighing, lately.

 

\---

 

            “You have to watch porn with headphones in,” Roxas states and Axel’s mouth is already opening to contest the point when Roxas butts in. “I’m not budging on this. You close your door, already, just follow through with the privacy.”

            “But, headphones, they’re...” Axel trails, gesturing his hands at his head like he’s being trapped. “It makes everything too... personal.”

            “ _You’re watching porn!_ ”

            “Exactly! I’m an observer. I don’t want surround sound.”

            Roxas deadpans at the redhead, trying not to belittle the other man but quite frankly, it’s been long enough. They must be nearly going on an hour, now, moving point by point through each of their lists of ‘needs and wants,’ as Axel puts them. It’s tiring, but... “Headphones. Please. You don’t have to wear them when I’m not around.”

            “Obviously,” Axel mumbles, trying to find where they left off on his list of requests. “Ah! Here. Label your groceries in the fridge. No more passive-aggressive notes of ‘ _where’s my soy milk_ ’? You know where it is, I drank it, just label your shit and I’ll leave it alone.”

            That’s... actually helpful. Roxas hums quietly with approval. “Okay.”

            “See?” Axel’s lips curl with a smarmy grin. “The contract works.”

            “We’re not done yet,” Roxas warns before clearing his throat. “We should talk about visitors.”

            “A 12-hour heads-up should be fine,” Axel waves a dismissive hand, eyes still focused on his pages. Roxas fidgets in his seat.

            “I don’t mean, like, family and friends...” he trails, watching as Axel’s gaze flickers up to the blonde’s when he realizes what they’re discussing.

            “Oh, you mean like – _special_ visitors. What, a heads-up doesn’t work for you?”

            Roxas must be going beet red at this point. He nearly smothers himself with his own papers. Instead he subjects himself to staring at the buttons on their television remote like they’re interesting, or something. “Well, what if we’re drunk, or don’t expect it and it’s past the cut-off mark—”

            “I didn’t realize you were the type to stumble into strangers and fuck them,” Axel is far too amused by this, expression wild with delight. Roxas coughs, choking on his spit at blunt language.

            “I’m not! I just – okay, fuck it, fine, forget I even brought it up—”

            “I don’t care if you bring anyone home,” Axel resolves, his tone shifting noticeably and Roxas looks up to find Axel has reeled himself in, features painted with… is that respect? “Sure, some notice would be nice, but I’ll…”

            When Axel laughs, Roxas’ brows pull together. “What?”

 

            The redhead shrugs. “I’ll put my headphones in.”


	2. run for the money, two for the rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started small and became a decently-sized chapter that I'm actually pretty happy with. I should probably mention I write Axel as a pretty flirtatious guy (and in some cases, polyamorous), so don't be surprised if I try to pair him up with... practically everyone. Especially after KH3 had me all up in my feelings about Axel and Saix/Lea and Isa.
> 
> But don't worry - at the end of the day this is still an AkuRoku fic at its core - I might just take some detours along the way. -MJ.

              Axel’s demise unfolds in a single evening.

              They’ve taken it upon themselves to indulge in some primetime television. With Roxas doing the channel-surfing, Axel multi-tasks between his takeaway carton of chow mein and sending flurries of texts to Demyx about going out at the end of the week. What pulls him from the balance is a soft laugh from Roxas, and Axel looks up to find –

               “—the season finale of _The Bachelor_ ,” the show host announces through the screen, and before Roxas can change channels Axel thrusts an arm out into the open air.

               “Ah – ah! We’re watching this,” he states, and Roxas proceeds to roll his eyes. He doesn’t switch channels, though.

              “You’re not even paying attention,” Roxas eyes the lapful of tasks the redhead is already trying to juggle.

              “I am now!”  Axel makes an effort to sit up a little straighter, put his phone down on the table in front of them. He’s found Roxas is extremely observant; from the beginning of their roommate-ship until now, almost two months in, the blonde is meticulous with everything around him. It can prove to be a prick in Axel’s side when he wants to veg out and ignore all the details and routines. Axel’s pretty sure if anything out of Roxas’ routine slipped from its place, Roxas would wither away into an ethereal dust.

              Or so he presumes. So Axel makes a show of looking like he’s interested in _The Bachelor_ , and sure enough, Roxas puts the remote down and wanders into the kitchen for a snack. Axel tries to focus on the recap, figure out all the drama he’s missed this season from the show he doesn’t watch. When Roxas returns, a hefty amount of washed strawberries piled into a bowl, Axel decides to lay down the proposal.

             “We could make this fun,” the redhead suggests.

             “Like a bet?” Roxas has come to understand that Axel enjoys speaking in wagers. _No risk, no reward_ , he says, like Roxas’ good grades, close social circle and impeccable health are birthed from luck. It’s a change of pace, living with Axel. Roxas feels eyes on him as he sits back down, Axel’s gaze locked on him like a predator targeting prey. Here we go.

             “You got it. Season finale, means there’s a winner and a loser. Whoever picks the winning contestant gets... a prize of their choice.” Axel sprawls his feet out onto the coffee table, crossing one ankle over the other. A victor’s pose, really.

             Roxas chuckles and there’s a dark edge to it. “Yeah, all right.”

            “Do you—” Axel’s immediately put off by how quickly the blonde consigns. “Do you know what you, want to wager?”

            “Mm-hmm. If I pick the right contestant, you have to go on a morning run with me.”

            “... That is a _death sentence_ and you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting that,” the redhead clutches at his figurative pearls, the breath snatched from his throat in a gasp of betrayal. Roxas _knows_ Axel’s diet consists of boxed mac ‘n cheese. The most exercise he gets in a week is _not_ the same sort of team venture Roxas wants him to attempt now. “That was an outright threat. I should disqualify you right now.”

            Roxas’ smile curves before pushing a strawberry past his lips. Cocky _bastard_. “Sounds like someone’s afraid of losing.”

            “Fine!” Axel snaps, but there’s no malice behind it, just... definitely not fear like Roxas is accusing. “If I win, you have to...”

            The air is thick, it’s hard to breathe. Stupid fuckin’ _Roxas_ calling Axel out like he _knows_ he’s out of shape. If they’re playing dirty, Axel’s going to have to serve up an ante to match.

            “You...” he hangs onto the vowel, letting it wither in the back of his throat. “You have to eat one of Demyx’s edibles. And I get to tell you all the stupid shit you said and did afterwards.”

            “... Deal.” Yes. There’s the hesitation. The pure little blonde kid is finally at risk of Axel’s corruption. Well, technically Demyx’s, but Axel gets to be the potential deliverer of an utmost holy product to only the most innocent of university students.

            Roxas, then Axel, reach out their hands in a firm shake, and the energy in the room shifts to something much more electric.

 

            It only takes them a couple scenes after the opening graphics to determine who they’re both vying for. Unsurprisingly, they both gravitate towards different bachelorettes – while each contestant has a lot in common—

            “She’s totally got it in the bag!” Axel argues during his contestant’s big final date with the Bachelor. His chow mein is long gone; the only thing keeping his attention is the show for the simple fact that his ass is on the line. “I bet you she acts like this when they’re in public but she’s a total freak behind closed doors.”

            “I don’t think he’s looking for something like that...” Roxas murmurs like he’s in the middle of a crime scene investigation, eyes narrowed as he tries to connect the dots with red thread. Axel almost finds it laugh-worthy, but reminds himself Roxas is his competitor. “He’s young and rich. If I were a millionaire I’d want someone who could match the level of fun I’d want to have _all_ the time.”

            “Yeah, but is that long-term wife material? I don’t think so.” Axel turns back to the TV, wondering if he’s missing something that Roxas has picked up on. How, though? If anyone knows what something long-term should look like, it’s Axel. He works hard every day _against_ that status quo – practically runs from commitment. He knows what saccharine domestication should be ‘cause he’s not doing it.

            But then Roxas hits him with a good one.

            “This is _The Bachelor_! None of the couples ever actually stay together! Reality TV rules basically state he should be looking for someone who’s going to give him a good time, not a long time,” the blonde explains, and holy shit, that’s not good. “Your girl’s a sugar cookie. Classic, but... boring after a while.”

            Axel has to scrape his jaw off the floor while Roxas continues to stare at the television screen with a passive interest.  

            “You’re savage,” Axel scoffs, and yet he’s almost proud. Roxas throws a one-shouldered shrug and plucks another strawberry from his bowl.

            “And I’m right.”

\---

            Like a newborn giraffe, Axel drags himself out to the sidewalk in front of their apartment building at seven-thirty sharp the next morning. He doesn’t even bother to put in contact lenses – simply throws on the closest thing he can find to workout garments and pulls his hair back in a shitty sort of high bun. Kind of. A half-bun, half-ponytail atrocity. Axel’s hair literally grows against the idea of him being athletic. He blearily accepts that this morning is going to be a disaster before he leaves the comforting warmth of their suite.

            Roxas is already waiting for him, one foot pulled back behind him in a stretch, a lone headphone dangling from where the other is already tethered in his ear. There’s none of the brash mockery like Axel had to experience the night before, all ‘told you so’s and ‘you better be ready’s. For Roxas, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary aside from the absolute humiliation Axel is about to go through. Speaking of.

            “Are those _swim trunks_?” Roxas inquires in a slight sputter, eyes bright and amused. Axel’s eyes are tired, unfocused, defeated. They haven’t even moved yet.

            “Fuck off – they’re all I have,” the redhead grumbles and bends to try and touch his toes. Suddenly he feels very exposed and Roxas continues to look him up and down like he’s the newest addition to Jurassic Park. “Is this what you were hoping for?”

            “Everything and more,” Roxas chuckles, bounces a couple times on the spot before he trots off down the sidewalk in a jog. “Come on! If you start moving maybe your thighs will look less pasty.”

            Axel’s head is thrown back, eyes closed with a whine of exasperation, but his hands still work to put his headphones in and start some music. Luckily his legs are much longer than Roxas’ so the pace they’re working at is a pretty light jog for the redhead. It’s only made clear that he’s a complete couch potato when he goes to speak. They’re thirty seconds in and he’s already out of breath.

           “You’re an asshole,” he huffs to his blonde counterpart, turning the corner of the block and heading in the direction of campus. _Fuck this_. Roxas just _wants_ everyone to see him crumple up and die. What a sicko. “I hope you’re ready to – to drag my ass to the hospital when – when I have a heart attack.”

           Roxas waits until they’re at a crosswalk to turn to Axel, still running in place while the taller man has taken to bending forward, hands clasped over his knees as he catches his breath.

           “Or maybe you could keep running regularly,” Roxas offers, “and then you won’t have to go to the hospital at all.”

           “Remember that thing I said last night?” Axel retorts as they continue running, his arms tucked helplessly into his sides, barely swinging. “About you being a savage? So true. You’re the fuckin’ worst.”

           Roxas, who is sure that after this Axel will title him in his phone as ‘The Fucking Worst,’ is actually impressed that they make it all the way to campus without Axel passing out. He’s quiet, sure, aside from his uneven breathing and occasional request for a break. So Roxas doesn’t stop the redhead from collapsing onto the university’s lawn, sprawling his limbs out with a warbling groan. Axel’s face is splotchy, red cheeks and nose and sweat gathering across his forehead.

          “I’m gonna die here,” Axel sighs, throwing an arm across his face, mouth and nose exposed to take in short heaves of air. “How do you _do_ this every morning?”

          “I eat vegetables and drink water, among other things,” Roxas lightly boots his roommate in the foot only to receive a shaky leg kicked back at him and Roxas laughs. “Come on, get up. We’ll start heading back.”

                   “Is that _Axel_?”

          The voice comes from a source beyond the sidewalk and Roxas turns to see a car has slowed to a stop, pulling up to the curb next to them. In the driver’s seat of a nice silver sedan sits a blue-haired man. Roxas would say he looks amused except the passenger blows the driver out of the water. Ignoring the extraneous features – eye patch, massive scar, grey stripes in his hair – the man looks overwhelmed with satisfaction as he eyes Axel wilting in the grass. “Hey, Ax! Wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

          “I wasn’t aware you could function at this hour,” the driver added, much less animated than his counterpart, but his voice is what seems to stir Axel from his makeshift deathbed.

          “Am I being heckled by a pirate-looking guy and a man driving a Prius?” he croaks from his spot, not looking up. Roxas cranes his neck to clock the vehicle’s model.

          “Yep.”

          The way Axel rises to sit up is theatrically slow, though Roxas has a feeling the redhead doesn’t realize the level of apathy he’s exuding. When he does finally come to face the car, Roxas watches Axel stiffen in his spine before shooting the two men in the car a pair of middle fingers. The one-eyed man cackles, leaning back in his seat while the driver’s smirk blooms further across his face.

         “Does this mean I’ll be seeing you at the gym?” The bluenette jeers calmly. Axel grunts as he pulls himself back up to his feet, brushing any lawn clippings off himself as he does so.

         “Fuck you, Saix,” he hisses, staggering over to the car and leaning into the window. Roxas eyes the group from his spot, equal parts entertained and confused at the type of people Axel apparently runs with in his free time. “I lost a bet. This isn’t a _lifestyle change_.”

         “God forbid,” Saix’s tone is relatively flat and yet his level of attitude outweighs Axel’s by a long shot. “Are those swim trunks?”

         “That’s a lot of exposed thigh, don’t you think, Saix?” says the pirate-looking guy and Axel makes a sound of protest.

         “You’re right, Xigbar. Might give a man the wrong idea,” Saix lobs back, smug. Axel’s arm shoots into the cab of the car to give Xigbar a shove and his defense is to slap a palm against said exposed thigh, the sound ringing across the quiet of the early hours.

         “You both fucking wish.” Axel leers as he jumps back from the vehicle. Xigbar swipes at him again, and Axel turns around to head back to the sidewalk where Roxas is waiting for him in awe of the display. Xigbar shouts some nonsense at them once more before the car takes off down the street. Axel doesn’t miss a beat, mirroring Roxas’ bouncing from the top of their run. “Come on, let’s go.”

         Roxas follows, surprised by Axel’s pace but he’s sure some of the speed has to come from embarrassment. Maybe. He seemed pretty comfortable with the way the two guys – his friends, Roxas guesses – openly... “Were they flirting with you?”

        “Maybe, I don’t know,” Axel exhales, eyes darting back to look at Roxas briefly with a glimmer of levity. “Why? It bother you?”

         “No,” Roxas answers quickly, gaze stuck forward and not drifting to Axel’s biceps as they flex slightly on his lean form with each step forward. “I just couldn’t tell. You seem to be awfully affectionate with your friends.”

        “Yeah, well.”

 

       They leave the conversation at that, quiet for the rest of the run back to their apartment. In fact, Axel’s usual chatty self doesn’t pick up a topic until they’ve returned to their suite and the redhead is behind his bedroom door.

      “Maybe I’ll join you on a run once a week. Or something.”

      “Or something?” Roxas calls from the kitchen, cracking eggs into a pan and listening for Axel over the sizzling. The redhead appears around the corner in nothing but his socks and those stupid swim trunks, his sweaty shirt balled in his fist as his arms cross over his chest. Roxas’ acknowledges those biceps with a lingering glance again before quickly returning to his eggs. The blonde can’t help but admit that despite maintaining a diet of ramen and Red Bull that Axel has decent arms. Lucky jerk.

     “Or I’ll join a cross-fit class and make all you assholes regret ever making fun of me,” Axel challenges, standing up straighter despite being already horrendously tall. Roxas snorts.

     “What? You said the Bachelor was looking for a good time, not a long time. Maybe I’m looking for both,” Axel says as he begins rifling through the fridge, pulling out a distinct blue and silver can and cracking it open. “I’ll have the diet of a heathen and the body of a god and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” 

     Roxas inhales so abruptly as he’s taking a sip from his water bottle that he gets it up his nose and leans against the kitchen counter, coughing. Axel is offended.

    “You’ll see!” the redhead bellows stubbornly, bee-lining for his bedroom with a finger pointed in the air, huffing in frustration.

     Roxas almost burns his eggs as he holds his stomach, his laugh vibrant.

 


	3. pb and p.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a friend in my freshman year of college who was the queen of stoner foods. I started thinking about her the other day and then this little narrative wormed its way into my head. Several of her recipes are included in this chapter.
> 
> Heads up: Drug use is implied in this chapter.

             Roxas is supposed to be studying. He’s in the midst of writing an essay, to be exact; a research essay on the use of particle systems in modern motion graphics. If Roxas is being honest, he lost interest an hour ago, when his mind began drifting to a new essay topic.

             Roxas swears he could write an entire _thesis_ on his roommate.

             He’s managed to narrow down his material specifically to Axel’s night-time behaviors. He knows that Axel works night shifts, though Roxas hasn’t bothered to ask where. What he does know is it means Axel will leave for work at five o’clock in the afternoon and come home at two or three in the morning. The redhead still has yet to understand that Roxas is supposed to be sleeping through the night, not being woken up to a half-drunk or half-high man stumbling into their pantry hunting for scraps.

             More often than not, Roxas has decided to politely wait it out until he hears the creaking sound of Axel flopping back onto his mattress before Roxas finally goes to sleep. Tonight, however, Roxas’ curiosity gets the best of him. For the sake of research, he concludes; if he doesn’t actually see Axel in _action_ , how on Earth is he supposed to write a paper on him?

             The blonde squirms his way into a hoodie before trudging out into the apartment to inspect the crime scene.

             Axel is standing in the middle of their tiny kitchen in nothing but his boxer briefs. Roxas would call him out for the indecency but he’s too focused on the fact that the redhead is polishing peanut butter off the end of a spoon. In his other hand sits a sandwich, uneaten, and across the counter there are numerous jars and containers.

             “What are you _doing_?” Roxas approaches with a sleepy, staggered step, wiping at his eyes and closing the open fridge door his roommate has apparently abandoned. Axel seems too encapsulated by his sandwich and Roxas presses. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

            “I was hungry,” his roommate says matter-of-factly, taking a bite of his sandwich and mumbling around the mouthful. “Why’re you up?”

            “It sounded like a raccoon was trying to raid our kitchen.” Roxas takes a sniff of the air, observes the ingredients out on the counter before shooting Axel a puzzled look. “What the hell are you eating?”

            There’s a pause. Axel shifts in his spot, guilty. Roxas tries again. “ _Axel_.”

            “Peanut butter ‘n pickle sandwich.” Axel shrugs. Roxas gapes.

            “That’s – you’re disgusting.”

            “I was _hungry_! Your body is a temple, Roxas,” the redhead wags a chiding finger across the kitchen. “Sometimes it craves weird shit. Who am I to deny my temple?”

            Roxas holds quiet eye contact with the other for a moment. Notices the slight glaze. A heavy-lidded stare. Roxas scoffs.

            “Are you high?”

            “... _Noooo_.” Axel insists, the vowel drawn out before a bashful giggle gives him away as he slumps against the counter and takes another bite.

            “You’re going to make yourself sick eating that,” Roxas sighs as he resigns to raiding the fridge himself, settling on a half-finished jug of orange juice labelled with a large “R” in permanent marker. He gives it a firm shake before unscrewing the lid.

            “Have you even tried it?” Axel argues. The way he articulates his words has softened around the edges. Oh, he’s stoned, for sure. Roxas almost laughs at the inquiry. Axel crowds his personal space and holds the sandwich out for him. “Seriously, try it!”

            “Fuck no, Axel – I have classes tomorrow morning,” Roxas chuckles, shoving the redhead in the chest with a half-hearted palm. “I’m not inducing stomach flu.”

            “You ever try hot fries and cream cheese?”

            “I –”

            “Pizza popcorn?”

            “That... doesn’t sound horrible.”

            “You know, that sea salt ice cream you like so much is a stoner’s _dream_ —”

            “—It is _not_ ,” Roxas quickly fights back while Axel grins wolfishly through the several large bites carved out of his sandwich, and he dives in to take one more. Axel’s body language denotes total nirvana; his head leans back against one of the cupboards and two feline eyes softly stare Roxas down. His sharp eyeliner from earlier has smudged at the corners, blown out like wisps of smoke, and now that they’re closer, the blonde can see Axel’s pupils are _blown_. Between the slap-happy expression and the... well, the aggressive lack of clothes, Roxas has a lot to study.

            And yet, Axel continues to happily devour what Roxas can only describe as a total monstrosity. Whatever Demyx is supplying him must roast one’s taste buds to smithereens.

            Roxas blinks when he realizes he’s been staring. Coughs. Blushes. “Is the, um – is the offer still out there?”

            “Offer?” Axel parrots after a moment, chin tilting up inquisitively, just slight.

            “Last time we made a bet you mentioned something about an... edible,” Roxas says. Playing it cool, obviously, because he’s _very_ cool so it comes to him naturally. _Obviously_.

            “Oh,” Axel says, short and light, at least until it truly hits him what Roxas is suggesting and then his voice and face drown in deviant satisfaction. “ _Oh_.”

            “Don’t look at me like that.”

            “No, no! No judgments here,” Axel recovers, shaking his head slowly. The crooked grin he’s donning doesn’t falter. “I just can’t believe the little puritan sheep is defecting from his flock.”

             “I haven’t decided yet!” Roxas argues, crossing his arms over his chest tightly as he adds, muttering: “I was just curious, okay?”

             “Sure,” Axel hums, and there’s a heavy quiet that settles over the kitchen. Roxas seems to be contemplating pretty hard, one hip jutted out so he can lean against the fridge for support. Axel doesn’t think he’s ever seen Roxas in bare feet before until now. Ten little sun-kissed toes. How are his toes so _perfect_?

             “Axel.”

             “Hmn?” Axel makes the noise almost involuntarily as he looks up to see Roxas eyeing him with the gentlest hint of mirth in his eyes.

             “I said I’m going to go back to bed,” Roxas repeats (apparently) and Axel straightens up in his spot.

             “Right, yeah. You do that,” the redhead ushers and Roxas runs a tired hand over his face, laughing quietly to himself.

             “Wow. It must be pretty worth it if it makes you this stupid,” his roommate teases and Axel sputters, shocked. He nearly drops his sandwich but Roxas is already slowing trotting back towards his bedroom.

             “That’s not what you say to the person who can get you drugs!” Axel chases after him but stops when Roxas does at the bedroom door. The blonde turns around to find Axel _right there_ , arm draped to lean against the doorway and Roxas can smell the sharp musk of Axel’s deodorant. Roxas mentally records the way the scent crawls up his spine and tickles the back of his neck. Axel grins. “Hey.”

             “Hey. Can I help you?” Roxas pesters, trying to look at least somewhat displeased with Axel lecturing him. Honestly if Roxas was less exhausted he’d probably find this whole debacle somewhat amusing. Axel doesn’t seem to notice the slump in Roxas’ shoulders, the bags under his eyes, the brink of a yawn coloring his speech.  

             “If I get you an edible, will you eat it?”

             “I’m not going to die, am I?”

             Axel snorts, shaking his head. “You could use a couple hours of mental R&R. I promise you won’t regret it.”

             Roxas hovers in his doorway a moment more before dumping a sigh from his lungs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Good-night, Axel.”

             Axel lingers even as Roxas wordlessly shuts the door to his room, smiling to himself. “Good-night, Roxas.”

 

\---

              Roxas is sprawled out on his back, limbs splayed across the living room floor. He’s totally blissed out, eyes half-open with a relaxed focus scanning the beams of light cascading across his ceiling. Standing over him a few feet away, Axel and Demyx watch him with equally interested gazes, the sandy blonde looking significantly more pleased than his redhead counterpart.

              “Thanks for this, Dem,” Axel says, and Demyx stands with his hands on his hips like he’s completed a task as tantamount as ending world hunger. His smile grows.

              “How could I say no?” Demyx is peppy as he speaks. “Looks like he’s a natural fit.”

              “Yeah? How’re you feeling, Rox?”

               Axel comes to crouch down next to the blonde who’s plastered to the carpet, though hazy blues drag their way over to follow each sharp angle of Axel’s hair. Roxas stops searching when red turns to green. Bright white teeth bared behind an amused curl of lips. Roxas attempts to mirror it with a grin of his own.

               “Mmn, like...” Roxas blinks, wiggles his fingers and toes. Takes a deep breath in, out. He doesn’t even realize he’s closed his eyes. “Everything is soft. Even breathing is soft.”

               Axel snorts, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Demyx. “Indica?”

               “Sativa,” Demyx corrects with a shrug of his shoulders. “But everyone’s response is different. My Music Comp TA is the same way. Doesn’t matter what the blend is, he just...”

               Demyx throws a hand down at Roxas with a giggle. “Loses to gravity.”

               “Was that your roundabout way of telling me you’ve been getting high with a TA?” Demyx’s eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said and beelines for the entrance to the apartment. Axel follows closely behind as Demyx’s shadow, spindly fingers poking and jabbing at the music student’s ribs. 

               “Wow, would you look at the time? I just remembered I have to go home and – vacuum!”

               “Leaving so soon?” Axel teases, snickering. Demyx goes to grab his jacket from their coat rack affixed to the wall next to their door, but Axel catches the sandy blonde’s wrist and pulls him into Axel’s bubble. He can feel the redhead’s breath across his face when he speaks. “Sounds like there’s something you’re not telling me, Dem.”

               “Nothing!” Demyx squawks, face flushed. Axel feigns yielding and when Demyx tries to shift away, there’s quick grab of shoulders before Axel’s got his back pressed to the wall opposite the coat rack in one sweeping motion.

               “Nothing? Are you sure?” Axel tries again, voice dropped to something low and quiet and Demyx hesitates.

               “... Uh, yup.”

               “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” the redhead murmurs, pulling his body close to the other, his nose bumping Demyx’s jaw before Axel presses a slow kiss to his pulse. “You screwin’ him?”

               “I want to,” Demyx blurts, slapping a humiliated hand to his forehead. There is a very distracting mouth damply traversing Demyx’s neck and he huffs. “Axel!”

               “Mm-hmm.” There’s a scrape of teeth. Demyx’s shivers.

               “You’re not listening to me!”

               “Teacher-student debauchery of many shapes and colors; I heard you loud and clear,” Axel’s hands have clasped over two slender hip bones, pushing up the fabric of Demyx’s teal t-shirt. The redhead trails his mouth up so he can meet his friend’s eyes, a gaze that’s washed with a cocktail of arousal and disappointment. Axel’s about to make Demyx forget about the latter with a firm kiss when a hand on his chest stops him halfway.

               “I _like_ him, dude.”

               Axel’s brows shoot up, a gut reaction.

               “Huh.” The redhead pauses, his breath caught in his throat for a moment. “You like... _like_ him, like him.”

               “I didn’t want to tell you, but—”

               “—I’m not upset,” Axel rights himself, putting enough distance between him and Demyx that they can breathe their own air again, but not enough that Demyx thinks he’s taking it personally. “He’d better be fuckin’ Prince Charming if he’s making you consider monogamy. No Xigbar, either?”

               “I gave him the speech last Friday,” Demyx huffed out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I think he thinks I’m pulling a prank on him.”

               “So, who is he? The TA,” Axel clarifies and does Demyx the favor of passing him his jacket and Demyx moves to shuck the sleeves on one at a time. “You said he was Music Comp?”

               “Yeah, he’s working on his Master’s degree.” Demyx practically salivates whilst verbalizing the fact. “He kind of looks like the front man for a _My Chemical Romance_ cover band.”

               “ _Black Parade_ or _Danger Days_?” Axel digs. It’s an important question.

               “ _Black Parade_.” Demyx says as he zips up his jacket. Axel figures he probably got enough _Danger Days_ from Xigbar before he cut things off. He doesn’t exactly blame the one-eyed man for thinking Demyx is yanking his chain. Axel means no offense when he says that Demyx is someone who has an abundance of love to share.

                To put it simply, he’s a total slut. Axel can respect that, empathetic of the lifestyle. “Have I seen him around campus before?”

               “Maybe,” Demyx shrugs before his eyes light up once more, no longer burdened by the secret he’s been keeping. “Hey! I can invite him out to the bar one night when you’re working and you can meet him.”

                “Sure, Dem.”

                 "You're the best, Ax." It’s Demyx this time that encroaches on Axel’s space, giving his friend a firm embrace with a complementary kiss and most of Axel’s pleasure receptors are confused as to why they’re firing off. Demyx pulls back after a moment with a cherubic smile.

                “That was the last one,” the sandy blonde murmurs and Axel slumps in the other’s arms with a groan.

                “Are you sure about this?” The redhead sighs, resting his head against Demyx’s shoulder. “You’re such a good lay. I don't want your talent going to waste.”

                “I know. I think he might be worth it,” he replies curtly, sweetly, before Demyx is pulling away and stepping to open the door. “Let me know if you want me to get your roommate high again.”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Axel flaps his hand with a grumble, shooing Demyx out of his house before he can recalibrate. When the door is closed and locked, Axel lets out a long breath, running a stiff set of fingers through his hair.

                 Demyx. _My Chemical Romance_. Well, fuck, okay.

                 Back in the living room, the ordeal between Axel and his friend seems a million miles away, like Roxas is listening to them through a straw. He’s too caught up with how soft his own hands are as Roxas gently runs one set of fingers over the opposite palm, following the lines that crease the skin. Axel returns to the solo palm reading, already thoroughly entertained as he sits himself down next to Roxas’ head, leaning against their TV stand.

                 “Having fun?” Axel prompts, watching Roxas’ eyes drift in and out of focus, unable to decide on whether or not he should be paying attention to the sensations inside or outside his body. Axel helps him making the decision by pushing his hand into Roxas’ hair, drawing slow circles across his scalp. Roxas gasps and sighs with a delighted smile, his eyes closing once more.

                 “ _Yeah_ ,” he drawls, his entire disposition so sickly adorable and unlike anything Axel’s ever seen from him before. Roxas presses into his roommate’s hand like a cat and Axel chuckles, working to find a rhythm that Roxas likes until the blonde melts further into the carpet with a purr. “This is stupid. So much different than alcohol.”

                 “Sure is,” Axel agrees and allows himself to relax into the strange tableaux they’ve created. The golden hour bursts through their balcony window and drowns the living room in rich hues. Roxas is completely still aside from his toes – bare again, those dainty little things – curling and uncurling in manufactured euphoria. That, and the small touch of pink that dips out periodically to moisten Roxas’ dry lips that keeps Axel occupied as he massages the other’s head.

                 Axel doesn’t even know how much time passes before Roxas shifts, his eyes slipping open with a languid blink or two.

                 “Hey.”

                 “Hey,” Axel echoes, the trade-off feeling familiar. “Can I help you?”

                 “Can you make me a sandwich?”

                  Axel doesn't need to be told twice.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I suggest if you're not allergic to peanut butter or pickles you give it a try, drugs or no.)
> 
> (I also promise Roxas has friends and they will be included very, very soon.)
> 
> A question for fellow writers and/or readers: How do you prefer a story to be tagged, specifically with relationships? (EDIT: Thank you for your feedback! This helped me a lot.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you liked, or what you didn't, and why. Maybe say hello, or a prompt for what you'd like to see next! - AMJM.


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